The Cerulean (The Cerulean Duology #1) - Amy Ewing Page 0,145
the ground, sending a jolt up her spine, and ran like lightning toward the wooden beast Errol had pointed out—it was smaller than the others, which was maybe why Sera thought it looked friendlier.
And then she saw them, her two friends, waiting for her on the dock.
42
Leo
“YOU ARE NOT MEANT TO BE HERE UNTIL TOMORROW,” Vada said. “And you told me passage was for a girl, not a boy.” She pointed at Leo. “He is a boy.”
“I know. The other girl is coming,” Agnes explained. “And . . . he needs to come too.”
Vada took a long drag of her cigarette. “No, Agnes,” she said. “You ask too much.”
“I have money,” Leo said. “Four thousand krogers. Please.”
Sirens began to wail in the distance, and both he and his sister jumped.
Vada frowned. “Is that about you?” she asked.
“Um, yes, I think maybe it could be,” Agnes said. She needed to get better at lying.
“We’re trying to do a good thing here,” Leo said. “We’re trying to help someone.”
“That is no matter to me.” Vada walked down the gangplank and turned to speak only to Agnes. “My mother is back, with the rest of the crew. She was displeased with me already, and now you ask that I bring along three passengers chased by policemen? I think not.” She reached into her vest and handed Agnes a thick wad of krogers. “I spent some already, but take the rest. It is yours. I cannot help you.”
“You must, please,” Agnes said. “You promised. She . . . she needs us.”
“You still have not told me who this ‘she’ is. You say she is not Pelagan.” Agnes shook her head. “Nor Kaolin.” Another shake. Vada threw up her hands, exasperated.
“Vada?” A voice came from within the schooner.
“Shit,” she muttered, putting out her cigarette on her boot. A woman appeared on the deck, flanked by several other sailors, women with weathered faces and grim expressions.
“Who are you talking to?” the woman demanded, before catching sight of Agnes and Leo. “Ah. Is this the Kaolin girl who tricked you into allowing not one but two berths?”
The woman strode down the gangplank, the sailors trailing behind. They were all lean and muscular, Leo noted, with scuffed boots and worn leather vests.
“And we have more,” he added. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a fistful of krogers. The sirens grew louder.
“Did you bring Kaolin lawmen down on us, girl?” the woman hissed.
“Mama, she is wealthy and well dressed. How was I to know she would bring the police?”
“It is your job to protect this ship while I am away, not sell it to the highest Kaolin bidder.”
“But they are Byrnes, Mama.”
Vada’s mother scoffed, “Her? A Byrne?”
Leo had never been so grateful to have his mother’s face. “We are,” he said, stepping into the light so the woman could see him. “I am Leo McLellan and this is my sister, Agnes. Our mother was Alethea Byrne.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “By the grace of the goddesses,” she murmured. “You are indeed a Byrne. I would know those eyes anywhere.” She frowned. “She can come. You stay. We don’t take Kaolin men on this ship.”
“But—”
“Please,” Agnes begged. “Our father will kill him if we leave him behind.”
For the first time that sentence did not seem like an exaggeration to Leo.
“Agnes!” a voice called, dancing across the wind. “Leo! I’m here, I’m coming!”
“Sera,” he gasped, his knees melting with relief. He whirled around as one of the sailors muttered something in Pelagan.
Sera raced up to them like a silver-gold blur and stopped short, panting. “I’m here,” she said. “We made it.”
Her dress was torn and dirty, the pile of curls on her head coming undone, and she had tied her skirt up, leaving her long legs bare. Leo had never seen a woman look so wild and untamed. The sirens grew closer.
Errol slid off her back, his filaments flashing as he crawled to the edge of the dock. Several of the sailors cried out at the sight of him, and he slipped into the water with a loud plop.
“He is happy to be back in the sea,” Sera said. Then tears filled her eyes. “Boris is gone, though. Her sprites turned to fire. She asked them to, I think. She burned herself to give us time to escape.”
Leo did not quite understand the tightness in his throat, the ache in his chest. He had never thought of the Arboreal as